On the Way to a Smile
by Redhead Turk
Summary: A spin-off of the On the Way to a Smile series published by Square Enix, telling the story of what happened between C'Est La Vie and The Footsteps of Life. With Shinra fallen, his life shattered, and everyone blaming them, can Reno rise from the darkness?
1. Chapter 1

I really hate Square Enix for producing one FFVII product after another – how on earth am I supposed to write an accurate story if new information keeps coming in every few months?! Anyway, with the release of the novels I now know who saved Tseng. And that maybe, just maybe, RENO IS GAY (ARRRRGH! THE HORROR.) But thank you, Square Enix. You really like consuming my time and money. Oh, and what was up with that Lifestream black shindig?! You made Sephiroth sound like a gay guy. Ew.

This is what happened after the incidents of _C'est La Vie_ and before _The Footsteps of Life_. There are the actual series of _On the way to a Smile_ written by the scenario writer of the FFVII AC, with the stories of Tifa, Denzel, Red, Turks, Cloud, Aeris/Sephiroth, Barrett, and Yuffie. THe Aeris/Sephiroth version is available online at /ffvii-advent-children-complete/3881/on-the-way-to-a-smile-lifestream-black-and-lifestream-white/#more-3881. Be warned; to me it screamed of Clephiroth.

No spoilers. So rest assured.

* * *

On the Way to a Smile - Reno

Chapter I

Reno stared at the ground as someone spat and walked away. His vision caught a small child lying on the ground, face down, probably dead. He did not care. He really wasn't up for a fight of any kind; his every fiber ached and screamed that it was tired and couldn't take it anymore. And his mind said that as well. Rebuilding the world seemed impossible. And so seemed himself. He guessed he really deserved it. People's lives were in one, huge, conjointed mess, and that was partly because of him. Oh no, he wasn't the cause of it, but he certainly was one of the wheels that made the motion carry forth.

It had been three days since the Meteor fell, and the world – and his life – had suddenly tumbled down precariously from its fragile balance and lay at his feet in pieces. His girlfriend, Arien DeVir, lay comatose in bed, suffering from severe burns and back injuries. Nobody knew what was going on, and the justice seemed to have an irony in meting out punishment. Now, when Shinra was fragile and defenseless, people seemed to blame everything to them. And rightly so, perhaps; it was they who had dropped the sector plate, they who had raised Sephiroth.

It was all their fault.

Reno looked up. Turned. And started to walk back.

* * *

Arien DeVir lay in bed. Or her body. Reno stood, leaning onto the doorframe, fatigued and not wishing to see her, yet compelled to do so. She had protected Rufus when the building was crumbling down, saving him at her own cost. Her eyes remained closed, but he knew what colour lay behind her lids – blue-green with a hint of grey. She looked innocent and virginal in the bed, unmoving, unaware. Her long hair fanned onto the white sheets.

He moved closer and sat down on the bed gingerly, as if trying not to wake her up. Which was a futile gesture – nothing could wake her up from her deep sleep. She was smiling as if she was happy.

"Arien…"

He grasped her hand, squeezed it hard. Both of their hands were slender, but his were a little more bony, fingers slightly thicker and his knuckles and joints slightly larger. Both their nails were cleanly trimmed – well, not Arien's, not now. Handling explosives required deft fingers and neatly trimmed nails, but Arien's, untrimmed for a few days now, and were growing.

He wondered if he could go on like this, her comatose, his life in pieces, his president incapacitated and nobody knowing what to do.

No.

He could face this with someone else. Not Rufus, not Elena, not Tseng. Maybe Rude. But Rude was busy taking care of other things. He couldn't bother his partner – they were both busy, and both of them sported injuries that weren't fully healed yet.

He grasped her hands again. Hard. As if he was holding her hands in prayer.

"Arien…"

He felt cold. He had never felt so cold, so alone.

* * *

"Is Arien up yet?"

The redhead shook his head, and Elena felt a tinge of pain. Reno looked so tired, so desolate, that every time he came out of her bedroom he looked ten years older. That youthful, cheerful, devil-may-care Reno's face had not changed. An unwary onlooker would have said that he had not changed. But Elena sensed a slight change in him – he seemed somewhere else, as if his thoughts were not here. There was loss in his eyes – everything he had worked for, every pain that he had sacrificed, was gone. Elena knew that despite Reno's façade, he felt guilt and pain the same way everyone else did when he had to kill. Just like his lover, his dreams were coloured in blood and tears, silent screams that he could not get out. But still, being a Turk had its rewards. Money, position, and for Reno, a person. But they were all gone.

"Come on, Reno. Sit down."

"Nah, I'm fine." He shook his head. "It's not like I'm dead."

_No you aren't, but you sure act like it, _Elena thought grimly. Reno walked away, hands in pockets, whistling nonchalantly. Elena turned, walking into Rufus's room. Tseng and Rufus were talking – Tseng had made a miraculous comeback which accidentally made Elena hug in on impulse and made Reno blurt out that he wanted to do the same. She smiled as she remembered Tseng's thankful response that he'd rather do without the experience.

* * *

Darkness. It was not terrifying. It had a friendly face for her, a gentle one, the one that gave her respite and soothing dreams. Arien floated in it, smiling, comfortable.

Then suddenly she was aware that she was standing on the bank of the river. The river rushed by her feet in torrents and gush, threatening to draw her in and take her away. She did not care. She stepped one step further. The water was cold and threatening, as if to drag her feet. It swirled around her ankles, spraying against her shin, tiny droplets of water decorating her legs.

Should she let go?

"Yes," she said out loud. But it felt as if something, just something was wrong. As if there was a reason why she should not let go. She rubbed her hand – why was it so painful? And what was that severe pressure on her fingers?

A hand was grasping her own. A slender hand. A man's hand. And a voice that called her name, softly, yet so clearly. The voice was pleading, hopeful, and yet forlorn, as if the caller was hoping for the impossible, clinging onto that last sliver of hope.

She knew the voice. Not in that tone, no. But in a voice that was cheerful, in a voice that was angry, in a voice that had lost all its senses, in a voice that had lost all reason. The way the voice elongated the A, a strong accent on the first syllable.

There was a reason she could not just let go. She had someone to return to, someone to live for. With tremendous effort she turned – the water current seemed stronger than ever – and placed her left foot onto the bank. Suddenly the water current seemed stronger, as if discouraging her from going back.

"Arien…"

Thousand rays of pincers attacked her eyes. She opened her eyes gingerly, and winced as the light attacked her vision and threatened to pierce her brain. She winced, and a face swam into her vision. A beautiful face, boyish, framed with red mane. The face had red crescent on each cheek, and the eyes were cat-like, slanted. Aquamarine. Small nose, slightly thin lips. Except usually the face was mischievous and cheerful; now, it was lined with worry and fear and… anxiety.

"Are ya okay, yo?"

Arien wanted to touch his face, but to her dismay she could not raise her arms. She tried moving her legs; they would not move either. Panic seemed to have crossed her face, because Reno's expression changed. Her mouth tasted sour, and she was sweating.

"Reno…" she whimpered. "I can't move. I can't move!"

"Relax, relax." His hand touched her forehead. His voice had not changed, and it was oddly comforting and soothing on her nerves. She felt no pain on her face; it was odd, since the last thing she felt was searing pain, a burning pain. Somebody had extensively cast Cure3 on her. She sensed it was not a physician. She wondered who it was, but Reno was saying something, and that interrupted her train of thoughts. "It's not permanent. You'll be fine."

"What…?" She looked around. "Who cast Cure on me?"

"I did," he replied, a sly smile on his face. "I can stand you not being able to move, but your bloated face I couldn't. You looked damn ugly."

"Thank you for your endless love," she replied weakly, but she could not help smiling. Reno was here, and that was all she needed. Reno. She knew she had lost her position, her wealth, her job – hell, did it matter? – but she had him. And that was all that she needed. She felt no change within herself, but with him, she felt that she could withstand any challenge the planet might throw against her, any obstacle that came hurtling toward her. His cheerfulness, his endurance was something that she relied upon when she was upset, angry, or disturbed.

She looked around some more; she had no idea where she was; it looked like The Healin Lodge, but that was Rufus' villa. So why was she there? Was Rufus alright? Tseng? Thousand questions whirled in her head so quickly she almost felt dizzy. She gazed back at her boyfriend again; Reno's shirt was still unbuttoned, and she saw a bandaged abdomen from the folds of the cloth. She saw no one else around. A rush of cold fear of losing him washed over her, making her sweat more.

If it was any other woman, she would have cried. But Arien was Arien, and a cold wave of fury washed over her.

"Renaldo Miller!" She shouted. "Why did you do that? Why!"

"Do what?"

"Your… your… wounds," she whispered. "You should have healed yourself rather than me, Reno! You idiot!"

"I told you, I couldn't stand your bloated face. It looked positively hideous. I'll be fine. It was a small scratch." He winked. "You look loads better. I can almost feel turned on."

"Yes, because small scratches need yards and yards of bandage," she retorted, trying to blink back her tears. "You are the dumbest person I have ever seen! First you try to rescue me in the fire…"

"Aren't you thankful for that?"

"Now you cast Cure on me for something frivolous when you should have cast it on yourself! Didn't anyone teach you common sense? What if you died? How am I supposed to li…" she shut up, seeing Reno grin triumphantly. _Yes,_ she wanted to scream; _I need you. I need you alive. For if you were dead, how am I supposed to live? _

"You need me, huh?" he asked slyly.

"Shut up." She turned away, wishing that she could say what she felt. Then, "What happened?"

"Well… when Meteor fell, you tried to protect Rufus." He sat down on the bed. She smelled the fragrance of cigarettes and cologne from the black button-down shirt he was wearing. A silver chain hung around his neck – an identical ring to the one on her finger was attached to it. The bond of blood, the bond of silver. The blood of her virginity, the blood of his sacrifice, all expressed with such a simple band. "I came and… got you from the fire."

"Thank you," she whispered. "Are you alright?"

Reno remembered the searing heat, the icy wave of terror that gnawed at his brain, the fear of losing her. Running blindly into the fire, searching for any remains of her, anything. Finding her, her face almost unrecognizable with the fire and the blisters, Arien moaning in pain, Rufus almost unharmed underneath. Her hand, somehow undamaged, and the ring on her finger, a soothing blue light in the red inferno. Reno grinned a little. She was alive. She was awake. He did not care if she was paralyzed, now or forever, as far as she could smile at him, talk to him. "You should worry 'bout yourself," he taunted. "Yah, I'm perfectly fine, yo."

"Rufus?" Trust Arien to think of the president right away. Well, maybe that was warranted; she had nearly given up her life for him.

"He's… in the next room," he gestured vaguely. "He's sleeping."

"Oh."

They were silent for a while. Then Arien asked, "How long am I going to be… like this?"

Reno looked into her eyes. In her eyes he saw fear, but also hope. "Couple of weeks," he replied gently, not sure if he was telling the truth. Who cared? He did not; she was here, she was alive, and that was all that mattered. "Couple of weeks."


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews!I'm glad someone remembered this merry couple :P

* * *

Night had fallen, and it meant bedtime. Arien fell asleep quite soon; Reno assumed she was tired from her first day awake. He had spent some time on the balcony, looking at the night sky and the broken buildings that pierced the nightscape in jagged lines.

He had crawled into bed next to her, and stared at the darkness, listening to her breathe steadily and peacefully. Running his life through in his mind, he had noticed that his life had suddenly been uprooted and upturned ever since Arien had entered her life, as if a herald of storms. It was not her doing, but it was as if trouble followed her. Or maybe it was just a coincidence. He was not sure. If it was a year ago, he would have fled faster than light. But he had stayed. He had jumped into trouble without a thought when she was in trouble. He had gone into the fire to look for her, had cried for her, had suffered for her. He had never done this before, and this new experience troubled him. Turks survived by putting themselves first and running when their instincts told them without a second thought for others. Did this mean that he was turning soft? Would he die because of her? Could he die because of her?

What surprised him even more was that he was willing to do it. No one was forcing him to go into dangers for anyone; in fact, Tseng and Rufus probably found this change unnerving. He was changing, and not by his volition. This troubled him even more. Was he losing his will?

Questions were running around in his mind wildly.

The truth was that he loved her, and he had never loved before. In a sense, Reno did not view Arien as an equal – in the sense of survival, Arien probably had a significantly lower ability to survive than he did. He felt that because she was weaker, because she needed his help, he ought to help her, even at his expense.

But perhaps it was more than that.

If it was just need and offer, then why did he feel warm when she was just in the room? Why did he feel happier when she was smiling, even if the cause of her smile caused him to miss out on things? Why did it pain him when something other than himself was causing her tears? Why did he let her hurt him?

Was this relationship supposed to go this far?

No.

This relationship was supposed to be one-way. As in, he takes the pleasure from her, possibly reciprocate in return if it involved minimal effort. It was supposed to be purely based on benefit. But from the looks of it, he was losing out on so many things. Like… money, time, freedom, and now, health. He felt as if she was tearing down his protective armor. He felt as if she tricked him into this.

But, a nagging voice said, _she really didn't, you know._ In fact, all she did was do something no other woman had done for him; love him unconditionally, accept him with his virtues and his flaws. She had shown him all of herself, from her strength to her weakness, as she was. And that was how he was snared.

Or maybe he did this to himself.

"Stupid, stupid," he muttered. He disliked that he lacked control. He felt vulnerable. And when he had slept with another woman when she could not be there for him, he had hurt her. Well, that was to be expected. But because she was hurt, he was also hurt. Which was not part of the expected effects.

"What's happening to me?" He asked himself. "What's going on?"

He felt like a lovesick child, and he hated himself for that. He hated that he was simpering like a schoolboy. He hated that he felt as weak and vulnerable as a virgin on the wedding night. And he hated Arien for turning him into this. And he loved Arien more for that. She had taught him what it was to love. She had taught him to rely on someone else, that he didn't have to stand by himself all the time. That it was alright to sit down once in a while, lean on a shoulder. That was a weakness. But also strength.

"Goddamn it!" He yelled. He heard a slight moan through the walls, and he regretted yelling. Arien continued sleeping; she mumbled something that sounded like his name. Surprised, he looked at her. Was she dreaming about him? She had a smile on her face, a peaceful smile, as if she felt safe.

He felt he did not deserve the trust. After all, he started out in this relationship only thinking about taking from her, not giving. But he also guessed that she probably would not care. The fact that she did not expect things from him was obvious from her reaction during their first night. She had told him that she would not regret her decision, and he was free to go, guiltless.

He was pleased that she did not expect things from him, but it also saddened him. In a sense, she did not trust him to stay for her. She had known his reputation and expected him to treat her the same. Well, he was, but he wondered if she had changed her mind about that or she still expected nothing from him. Did she not trust him? Did he not trust her?

He slept to find respite from the constant nagging in his mind. Yet even in his dreams he was not free. In his dream, he had tried to save Arien from drowning, and ended up drowning himself. Arien had saved herself, and without even a glance, she had walked away, as he died.

* * *

"Arie?"

Arien indicated with her eyes that she was listening. She was still immobile, and that seemed to frustrate her. But he was glad; she was able to stop and rest for once. She was always running around, being busy, trying to get more ahead.

Crazed perfectionist, workaholic. Arien seemed pretty haggard in the end, and he thought this was a good chance for her to recuperate. It was time for her to slow down, take a deep breath.

"Do you love me?"

He expected her to look at him incredulously, maybe mock him, or just scoff at him. But she did none of them. She did not change her facial expression. In fact, she did not move. But he could tell that she was thinking.

"I can't really say," she said quietly. "Do I love you like Ivana loves Zen? No." The words stung, but it was to be expected. Their relationship was nothing like Ivy and Zen's. It was not always happy, and it was not always smooth; it was rocky at first, and sometimes it was on the verge of destruction; but a thin, invisible thread held them together.

"But I do need you," she continued. "I guess I can live without you…"

"Okay, you just went against yourself."

"Shush," she said with a slight smile. "But to be honest, I don't know what I'd do without you. How would I live? When I'm sad, who'd make me laugh? When I'm lonely, who'd hold me?"

"So," she said, looking at him, "I can't live without you. It's not love, maybe. But… you're like water to me."

She looked at him apologetically, as if she was sorry that she could not afford a better answer. But he could not have been happier with her reply. She needed him for her most basic need – survival. She could not live without him. It was no longer an option for her to love him or not, to be with him or not.

In a sense, it was a sadistic satisfaction – but then he was always a sadist to her. How many times had he made her beg in bed, withholding pleasure even at his expense? How many times had she cried unwittingly, tears streaming down her face as he suddenly stopped his movements? He had lost count. Her compliance was just another phase of his sadistic streak, a sense that he had dominated her. And he knew that she knew. She knew that she was no longer as independent as she was, and she seemed not to care.

"You know…"

"Hmm?" She turned her head.

"People hate us." Reno said.

"More than before?"

Nod.

Arien paused, drew in a sharp breath, then said, "I guess that's to be expected, Reno. After all, Shinra Company nearly destroyed the world. I'd hate Shinra too if I lost someone in that mess." She paused again, then said, "I would have hated Rufus, whether I'm a Turk or not, if I lost you."

Reno did not reply. He could not.

"It's not entirely our fault, but a lot of it is," Arien continued. "I guess we have to repay our debt… one way or another."

"Repay… and rebuild," he said, almost as if to himself. Then abruptly, "You feeling better?"

"What do you mean?" Arien asked curiously.

"I mean exactly what I say," he replied quietly. Would he have said these words this gently, two years ago? He felt like he was turning into a mush. It was all her fault.

"I can't feel my legs or my hands," Arien reported. "Or anything, as a matter of fact." She sighed. "I know you said otherwise, but if I didn't recover…" she shuddered visibly. She looked vulnerable and weak and unsure of herself; he wanted to reassure her, caress her, and tell her that everything was okay. He could not imagine how she felt, but he guessed that her confidence came from the fact that she could move and was rarely bedridden. Being ill made her feel unsure and weak, two emotions that she seemed to hate.

She lay there, immobile. Her skin was pale, her raven hair like a dark halo around her face. She was weak, unbathed, fearful, and tired. He loved her, especially now.

"Are you okay?" she asked, noticing that he seemed spaced out.

"Huh? Sure I am. Worry 'bout yourself."

"No, I mean…" she tried to find words and none came out. She would have gestured the words, but she could not move her hands. So she just lay there.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he replied. "Just concentrate on getting better." He removed the hair from her face, which hung in front of her eyes like a curtain.

"I feel like a burden," she complained.

"You always are, yo."

"Shut up."

The two fell into a tense silence again. Then she opened her mouth.

"Is the temperature dropping? It's really cold in here…"

"It's not cold at all in here," Reno objected. "Are you cold?"

A small nod.

"Let me go find a blanket." He stood up, but Arien whimpered in protest.

"Don't leave me here." He could see her face move slightly, as if she was fighting back tears. She always tried, regardless of whether she succeeded or not. It seemed that her fight got progressively futile when she was with him.

Reno glared. "If you haven't noticed, I can't stay in two places at once, yo."

"I know…" her bare shoulders twitched slightly. She sighed. "I'm cold, but I don't want you to leave. Leaves us in a dilemma, doesn't it?" She regretted saying that when a sly grin appeared on his face.

"And I can always solve the dilemma by cutting the knot." He started to take off his clothes. Her eyebrows shot up in the way that they did when she thought she saw something scandalous.

"What are you doing?"

"You're cold, but you don't want me to leave. There's only one way to solve that, isn't there?" He took out the elastic from his hair, and pushed her a little to the side. He slid into the sheets, and wrapped his arms around her. Her body was burning; she was wearing a hospital robe, and through it he could feel her body. He was always delighted to find that under such a hard exterior, Arien was, in fact, a woman, meaning that her body was soft.

She continued to tremble in his arms for a few moments, but gradually it subsided.

"Feeling better?"

"Somewhat." It came out with a sigh. "Can I ask you a favor?"

"You're kicking me out from your bed," he accused, not pleased that he had to go back out into the cold; well, it was not cold, but the bed was much more comfortable. Especially with her in it. But she shook her head.

"Okay. What do ya want?"

"Well…" she blushed a little. "Can you…" more blush. Reno was getting curious. What did she want?

"Canyousleepwithme?" She blurted out. Reno's brain registered it as a foreign language, tried to decipher it, and was unsuccessful. He crinkled his forehead.

"Come again?"

"Can you sleep with me?" She was getting so red, and her wording was awkward. He knew she could be meaning sleep as in a good night's sleep, but from the way she was blushing, he took it by the other meaning. Wondering why she could not just have asked for sex but had to put it euphemistically, he grinned. "And why is that, missy? The last time I saw you, you were paralyzed and unable to move, unable to feel your hands or your legs. Unless your sexual appetite increased with that… then I'll make sure you're paralyzed for the rest of your life…"

"Oh shush," she snapped. "It's just that… I can't feel anything on the outside. Maybe in the inside…" she shrugged again. "And I am still cold."

"Damn it, I thought you really wanted me," he cursed. She laughed a little. It was the old laugh, not the metallic, pretentious one but the one she used to laugh before the Meteor. She looked at him, and smiled.

"Fine…"

Carefully he peeled her robe off. She felt fragile in his arms, like a small glass doll that would be in pieces with one mishandling. She had lost more weight, as if that was even remotely possible. He touched her shoulder cautiously, carefully. She laughed.

"I'm not going to break, Reno," she whispered. "I'm just… paralyzed…"

He touched her face with his fingertips, her nose, her mouth, gently. It looked like he was trying to make sure that she was actually there; she knew the feeling, and she knew that if Arien could move her hands, she would have done the same. But for now, she had to do with the visual confirmation. He looked tired with slight bag under his eyes, but his mouth was still as sensual as ever. His hands roamed freely, and she realized that she must be recovering, if slowly – she could feel his hands.

In the darkness with only the moonlight, Reno could see her dark silhouette, her hair that fanned onto the sheets. In the beginning he was cautious, feeling like he was tiptoeing, but with each of her gasps – and perhaps his own – he felt his loss of control. Her eyes were shut tightly and her breaths became ragged, and as her breaths became more urgent so did his movements.

"Reno…"

It took a struggle to get a "what?" out when he was so close to the climax.

"I wish…" he looked down, and saw that she was crying. ""I wish I can feel my hands again," she wept. "I wish I could feel your hair… your hands on mine…"

"Shh." He silenced her with a kiss. "Can you feel me inside?"

A small nod.

"Then that's all I'm asking for." Seeing her in tears hastened the climax; he could no longer control himself. And just as he was about to lose himself completely, he felt her lose control as well. They both let go at the same time, it seemed, for they could not speak for a few seconds. He held her close afterwards; usually she would find her nook and snuggle next to him as if to seek warmth, but all she could do was just lie there. She felt helpless, but for the first time, she could feel something that wasn't hopelessness. Reno was here, and _as far as he's here,_ she thought, _it'll be okay. I'll live._


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to all my readers, those who didn't review (ya know, reviews do keep me going... hint hint), and those who did review!

Echo - You should know the story! You shall see... or maybe not.

Tangy - I'm so glad you said that, because that's been one of my worries throughout the entire series. It's hard to tie Reno down to a relationship. It's even harder to find a woman who can tie him down...

Anyway.

* * *

"Hey!"

Reno, startled, jerked back into his seat. His hair, rustled by the movement of air, stood up even more than usual. He reminded her of an angry cat, back arched and hair standing up. She almost laughed.

"What?! What is it?"

"I can feel my hands!"

That was the first good news in two weeks. It meant that her paralysis was not as they had feared, and was only temporary. She could see that he was relieved, and so was she; Reno was not good at sitting at bedside for more than 5 minutes. He was restless and preferred action, and she felt she was tying him down.

The recovery progressed, if slowly. Her muscles had atrophied a little due to the lack of use, and the Turks offered to help her get back into shape. First the manual coordination; this Arien had accomplished by doing crafts while sitting up in her bed. From her hands flowered laces, ornaments, accessories. After she had made them Arien seemed to lose all interest in them, but Elena gladly took them off her hands.

It took her weeks to get out of bed and even more to get out of the house. But as soon as she could get up and go about, she resumed her normal schedule of fitness training. First she sparred against a dummy because sparring against Reno was quite pointless at that stage, but soon enough she was sparring against Reno. She was still slower than he was, but they both knew that she'd never be fast as he was. He was, after all, the fastest among the Turks, and he prided himself for that. Colour returned to her face, and she no longer resembled a gaunt zombie. Soon, life seemed to be back to what could be said as vaguely normal.

Back in the city, people were standing on their own feet, trying to piece back their lives. A new city was being built to accommodate the former citizens of the metropolis; it would never be as grand and corrupt as Midgar was, but it was growing at a phenomenal rate.

Reno was glad to see a city. He was always a city boy, and he did not thrive in a relaxed environment. For him life was fast and moving, not relaxing and static. He had found Shivvalan and his wife safe in the city, as were Zen and Ivy. They had rejoiced to find each other safe and intact; after all, Ivy and Arien were a team and Zen and Reno viewed themselves as unfortunate victims of a very well-carried out con.

"So, how's it going?" Zen had asked over a glass of whiskey when he had visited with Arien. The "girls", as they called the two, had run off to the kitchen because, according to Zen, "they liked the kitchen more than they liked us".

Zen found it less mortifying to talk to the hero he admired, mainly because the redhead was Ivy's best friend's boyfriend. There was still that sense of awe, but he had also found that Reno was, after all, an ordinary guy with an extraordinary job and an even rarer paycheck. That, and they had the same problem – women. They were well nigh incomprehensible even at the best of times, but at the worst they turned into nightmares. But that, as Reno had put, was the gist of a woman; can't live with them, but when you don't have them around it greatly inconveniences you.

"Whadya mean, how's it going?" Reno asked back.

"You know, with Arien."

"If you mean is she still bossing me, yeah." Reno raised his glass in mock salute. He did not bother to say that their power balance had shifted slightly, however, as he saw no point. He would never believe that Arien was actually a masochist. Just then, Arien poked her head out the kitchen doorway. She was clothed in a black leather vest and dark blue skinny jeans, but Zen realized that Arien had looked oddly pale. There was a black velvet choker around her neck; it was clearly Reno's preferred attire, not hers.

"Reno?"

"Yo!" Reno replied cheerfully.

"We ran out of wine. Can you go get some?"

If it was anything else Reno would have said flat-out no. But when it came to booze Reno went anywhere. "Red?"

"No," Arien replied as if to ask him if he was mad. "White."

"Right-o." Reno hopped out of his seat. Just then, Ivy poked her head out above Arien and eyed Zen. _Go with Reno,_ her eyes said, _so he doesn't get something weird._ Zen sighed, and followed Reno out the door.

As Reno drove – rather recklessly – Zen wondered. Arien did not smile a lot to begin with, but she seemed to smile even less. Reno seemed carefree as usual, but there was still something about him that seemed different, as if he had seen a nightmare and there were still residues of it in his head. Apparently the Meteor incident had left a deeper scar in both of them than they both cared to admit. Arien's face was impassionate and emotionless originally, but she looked even colder. What was going on?

* * *

In the meanwhile, Arien and Ivana were in the kitchen. Ivana sensed Arien wanted to say something, but could not. And when Arien clammed up, not even a pick would open her up. So she just waited.

"Ivy?"

"Hmm?" She shut the oven door and sat down in a chair.

"I need to tell you something."

"What?"

"I'm in love with Reno," Arien blurted out. Ivana was reaching for a glass of cocktail on the table, but stopped her hands, and stared at her.

"What?"

"Oh my god, I don't believe it," she said with laughter. Arien stiffened.

"Come on, are you seriously telling me you didn't know?" She sat down and poured herself a glass of Sex on the Beach. Ivy smiled.

"Oh, I knew it. I just can't believe you admitted it." She waved a cheese stick under Arien's nose. "Took you long enough."

"What do you mean?!"

"The moment you were crying about him on the bench when we saw him with another girl at the ice cream parlor, it was obvious." Ivy grinned impishly. "Arien DeVir, crying over a guy. I thought the world had turned upside down."

Arien sighed. "It's not really something to laugh about. Reno's changing me, Ivy, and I hate it!"

"Um, too bad." Ivy did not say that love always changed you, for the better or for worse. That would have thrown Arien into a panic. Which would lead to Arien leaving the redhead, and the redhead going postal and being trigger-happy in the street in broad daylight. The last thing the new town needed was another psycho from Shinra Company who went on a killing rampage.

But Arien had changed. It was obvious. She seemed more relaxed and less defensive. She even wore feminine clothes sometimes these days, as if she had finally realized that she didn't need to be prickly like a hedgehog all the time but could be feminine. Unlike Zen, Ivy knew that Arien was not the dominant one in the bedroom; it was rather obvious that any sexual exchanges that were made between those two were usually ultimately initiated by the redhead. She also understood why Arien loved him; Reno was strong enough to make Arien be weak in comparison, which was a feat by itself. Usually her angry independence was aggressive enough to scare the men away. But with Reno he remained with a cheerful persistence. After all, nobody refused Renaldo Miller. Once he was after a prey, the prey was doomed.

Arien scowled.

Ivy had known this all along. Reno was notorious for his conquests in the offices, ranging from Scarlett – who wasn't that difficult to sleep with to begin with – to the demure shy secretaries who worked a few floors below. But Arien was none of those. She was unique. Usually women were women because they were on the "woman's side", so to speak. They had feminine traits, they behaved feminine. They had their own world, and that meant no men were allowed.

Not so with her. Arien stood in the middle ground. She could deal with mechanics like any other man, shoot better than most of men, and when it came to tactical combat she was one of the best. But like other females she liked to clean (or maybe that was just her), cook, and do house chores. Nowadays she sometimes even liked putting make-up on. She seemed to like being subservient to Reno. She was both, and neither. And that made her different.

Ivy understood that the reason Reno had fallen for her, the reason he had given his heart for her was precisely this. He could treat her as a woman; she was just as weak and frivolous as other women. But when it came to life decisions, Arien would support him, give him advice, and be there for him on an equal basis. He would take her words seriously, not because it was hers but because they were logically sound. Her feedback was valued. She was the ultimate companion; woman in every trait that he wanted her to be a woman, and a man in all other traits.

Arien eyed her. "What?"

Ivy bit down her grin. Arien never needed Ivy to tell her this. This was something she'd have to learn herself. "Nothing," she said.

* * *

"I never expected you to stay with her for so long."

Reno eyed him. "Whaddya mean?"

"I mean, you had quite a reputation." Zen grasped a bottle of white, checking the label.

"You mean, I never shagged the same girl twice." Reno glanced at the label on the bottle Zen was holding. "Mideelian Zinf. Don't think the ladies would like it."

"Well… yes." Zen put the bottle back. "You were quite notorious." He stopped his hand. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you stay for Arien?"

Reno shut up, because he had no idea. It was a good question; why _did_ he stay with Arien? It wasn't supposed to be a long term relationship, was it? It was supposed to be an easy fuck then get out as fast as you can kind of thing. No muss, no fuss. She wasn't any prettier, or kinder than any other girl he had slept with. Maybe smarter, but that would work against her in this case; he tended to stay away from clever women, because that usually got him into trouble. Well, yes, he was attracted to her at first sight, but that didn't mean anything to him except that he would like to have sex with her. And while the sex with her was certainly more than satisfying, it didn't merit a commitment. It was almost like his relationship with the Shinra Co. He had thought that he worked for Rufus because of the good pay, but when Rufus was in a weakened state with nothing to offer he still stuck around.

But he knew, most certainly, that currently he was stuck in a limbo. With the society and with himself. What did the society expect of him? What did he expect for himself? Was he to move on? Would that change his relationship with the Wutaian? He could still get out if he wished from both commitments, disappear into the city without a trace. Or he could start doing something instead of dawdling. He wasn't quite sure what to do.

But if he did start moving, what would he be? Ever since joining the Turks Reno had squashed moral qualms about carrying out orders, whether it was just a scouting assignment or dropping the sector plate. People still hated Shinra – and therefore him – for that. And he had accepted that he was the bad guy. Could he turn around and start acting like a good guy now? Wouldn't that be hypocritical? Or would that work? What would happen?

"Reno?"

"Yah." Reno snapped back into reality. He found the bottle Arien used for cooking, and grasped it. Arien had moved on; she had decided that when the environment changed so would she. She seemed to have no regret in abandoning her former role among the Turks and doing whatever seemed the best. But could he? Could he really let his identity as a Turk go, after sacrificing so much for it?

_No._


	4. Chapter 4

Last installment! Yey :D

Tangy Tangerine - I'm not sure what I'm doing right, but I'm assuming that I am. I think it's because I've created an entire past for Reno and did a full character development to the point that I can write a biography.

Echo the Ethereal Swordmaster - Actually, Arien took about 2 and half months to recover... I didn't really write that in detail though, since the original _On the Way to a Smile_ are novellas. Anyway.

I do realise that my writing style is slowly changing, but that's only to be expected. I think the drugged atmosphere in this chapter is due to me listening to Placebo while I was writing this. Anyway, hope you enjoy...

* * *

Reno had learned that, in the end, you can't really flee the consequences.

He stood in the rain, looking up, remembering, wondering.

Arien stood beside him, facing the past, trying to face the present and unsure that she could face the future.

The ashes fell like snow around them; paper fluttered around them, mocking them for their mistakes.

They remembered the dark sky, the hurtling fire, and felt their crimes drench them with red blood.

And no rain would cleanse them.

* * *

"So, how was it?"

"We shouldn't have went," Arien replied quietly. She sipped her tea, looking down. Elena looked at her. Reno and his girlfriend had made a trek into the old heart of Midgar, for reasons unknown. Atonement? Acknowledgement? She had no idea.

"No, we went and we should've," Reno replied instantly. His eyes had a resolute look in them, as if he had made his mind up and refused to look back now. Something had changed in both of them; each goodbye that they had bade, each regret that they had buried deep within them, had resurfaced by returning to the heart of the disaster. Arien, like a woman, had looked to the past; Reno, as her counter, had looked into the future. And saw hope. And division.

Truth was painful.

* * *

Reno looked at Arien. Even with her eyes darkened by worry and regret, she was still… not beautiful, that word did not do justice to her. But with all her worry, her weakness, her wisdom etched on her face, she looked strong and weak all at once. She had the resolve to move on, but no one was there to push her forward, and the past weighed her down like atonement. She seemed to be stuck in an eternal time loop, trying to forgive and forget and achieving neither. Her dark hair was still long and glossy, her skin still smooth if pale, her eyes still focused… but something had changed. The weight of thousand lives, he thought. Thousands, even millions, homes destroyed, children orphaned, people widowed. Arien was a woman in love – that he was sure of – and was a daughter, and therefore had seen the scenes from both the spouse's view and the child's view, and only saw grief and despair. And the cruelty of life, for life went on without a regard for anyone. People slept, breathed, and lived, despite the tragedies; and they were powerless to remedy anything. They had the power to destroy but not create. This had infuriated her and depressed her all at once.

But Reno knew; wondering what could be done meant nothing if someone did not move and start doing something. Thinking was all very well, but without action thought produced nothing. And Arien had repented enough, beaten herself enough; this was the time to stand up and start atoning for the sins they had caused. This was what he had learned at the heart of the destroyed Midgar, where people had once lived. Now it was a desolate graveyard, but people had moved on, acted out of desperation to live. And that was what they must now do. Dead would be dead; living would live on.

"Arien."

She looked up, her eyes greyer than usual.

"I know what you're thinking," he said slowly. "I know that you're wondering, and I know that it gets to you during the night."

She did not reply. Not even non-verbal. She sat there, motionless, as if frozen in time.

"But you gotta let go," he said, his tone harsh. "It's hard, I know, but sitting and wondering won't help the people we've hurt. We gotta stand up, and move on, because that's what those people have done. People who died can't be helped; people who survived need as much help as they can get, even if it means ours."

"It's our fault," was her reply.

"Yeah. No point denying it." He clasped her thin hand in his. "We might end up spending our lives trying to fix it. It might not be fixed ever. But I'd rather die knowing that I tried and did something rather than wondering what would have happened if I got up and moved instead of sitting around. So Arie, we gotta move on. There are people out there who blame us. And who's to blame them? And they'll refuse our help, thinking we're scums of the planet. But we gotta try. Because that's all we can do – keep trying."

There was nothing more to be said. Nothing remained but memories, lurid in colour unlike now, filled with laughter, unlike now. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to flee to, and if they stood still the ground will cave in. They both knew that they have to start running, or otherwise they will fall into the desolate despair that was even more lethal than the puzzling disease. It was painful, and it was agonizing, but nothing could have been done to undo the past. Arien swallowed that as Reno fed her.

It signaled the end of an era. And a beginning of a new one.

That night, for the first time in the long time, Reno and Arien had sex. It was a wild one, not the sly battle that they usually had, but the kind that tried to make each other forget in each other's flesh. Each movement felt more desperate, more intense and agonizingly slower than ever, wanting to reach the top but unable to get there. Ragged breaths reverberated off the walls; in shame, in sadness, and in guilty desire Reno abused her, pushed into her until she screamed. He made her beg, her face contorted in agony, her back arched as she writhed under him, mouthing the words to let her go. His fingers played her like she was some kind of an instrument, bringing her to the edge, making her scream for release. Whether she was in pleasure or pain was no longer clear; it was no longer clear whether either of them cared.

She lay there, spent, her eyes empty. He was well aware, as he stood in front of the window, clad in jeans and nothing more, smoking, of his sadistic face that he had showed her. He was also aware – too acutely, perhaps – that she was the only one who could make him perspire, fill him with the endless desire, and shame. She dragged out the darkness within him into the broad daylight, the part that he never had planned to expose. Each thrust, each grasp had dragged out even more of his will to break her. Her persistent refusal to be broken her drove him up the wall.

"…Reno…" Her voice was faint. He replied with a voice, but nothing else; he did not turn around. He did not understand why he had felt that urge just that night, to drive her into the corner until she had to scream. He recalled her screams, her begs with a shameful glee. No matter what, he knew for certain that she was forever bound to him for better or for worse, that he was her jailor and the knave with the key.

The room was quiet. The morning sun crept in between the curtains; her white shoulder looked dazzlingly white. And there they remained, in the same room, unable to look at each other, for that would mean that they would have to move on.

* * *

It was a few later when Reno had received a call. It was from Zen.

"Hey, yo."

"Hello, Reno." He sounded tired, but still cheerful. "Listen. I've been in touch with the former employees."

"Oh crap." He groaned. "Lemme guess, they hate us."

"Surprisingly, no," Zen's voice informed him. "They want to help you in any way that they can. I can send the list of contacts."

"Hm."

After he hang up, Reno sat there, pondering. Perhaps there was more hope than he had thought; it was rather surprising that the former employees were still loyal. But then, Rufus had been a strict leader but never an unfair one; he had never mistreated an employee and always rewarded handsomely.

Arien came in. Ever since that night, they could no longer look at each other in the eyes, as though as if they avoided it they could halt the future. Why they would want to do that, neither had any idea; they both knew that the future could throw both hardships and triumphs at them. But it was as if they were stuck in the small cage called the present, unwilling to get out of the cage. Arien was starting to feel that there would be nothing wrong continuing this lifestyle of complete desires and absolutely no duties, of eating whatever they wanted, sleeping whatever they wanted, getting drunk and losing all inhibitions, Reno smoking and them having sex endlessly. It was like a ripened fruit that was about to start rotting; it smelled sweet but it was almost cloying. She did not know how to stop this path of decadence from bringing about their ruin. She did not want to.

How many times, Reno wondered, had they taken each other, drunkenly, mouth seeking mouth, hands groping? How many nights had passed with her being the wanton whore and him being the cruel master? He knew, as she knew, that if he had undressed her right there and then, she would respond, and all inhibitions would lie forgotten on the floor along with their clothes.

But Zen's news had at least driven Reno's instinct to a different direction. All the hedonistic copulation and indulgence stemmed from the façade of bravery that hid the hopelessness. But this meant hope.

"Arien."

She turned her empty eyes toward him, her face not that of a person but of a woman who was indulgent in all things sensual. Her mouth said nothing but her expression told him that she wanted him inside her again, to forget the pain in alcohol-hazed sex. And his body responded readily, desiring just what she had wanted. But hope stopped him from taking her, spreading her legs just there and then and forgetting himself. There was a light at the end of the tunnel. And since there was a light, he needed to stand up and start running to that light.

"Zen said that…" his words were interrupted by her kiss. It was slow, wet, and Reno found that when Arien wanted to be, she could be the most difficult succubus. He almost felt as if he was drowning in her. With reluctance he broke off the kiss, but was acutely aware of her thighs on his.

"Listen, he said…" Her hand was distracting him.

"Arien!"

Surprised, she stopped, and the sudden halt was like a bucket of cold water to his inflamed body. He took a sharp breath. "Zen said that the former employees are looking for Rufus and us. They want to help us out."

She made no response. Her eyes were empty, so devoid of… anything. Was she dead? Did despair kill her into this being that only listened to desires?

"So… we're gonna visit Rufus tomorrow." He had a vague doubt that his words were falling on deaf ears. But he had to try. He needed to start running, truly start running, this time. No more running away, no more hiding.

* * *

So Reno was surprised and pleased to find out the next day that his words did not fall on deaf ears. He found Arien, who had developed a bad habit of sleeping in till noon with her arms clinging around his shoulders, awake and fully dressed at seven, making breakfast. She seemed to have cleaned the house while he was asleep; while she still looked tired and low, but at least she was doing now, instead of hiding.

"Morning," she said, a faint ghost of a smile on her face.

"Morning," he replied, and sat down. Looking at her work, he wondered if that face she had shown him, that empty face, was part of her, just as that sadistic, abusive face was his.

He wondered. But he knew that he will never know the answer.


End file.
